This Is The Road To Ruin
by Freeze-Branded-Heart
Summary: "You're not talking about justice, Jen, you're talking about revenge." "Sometimes they're the same." "No, they're not," I couldn't help but notice how Dean had raised his voice slightly. "Justice is about fairness. Revenge is about you making yourself feel better."
1. Prologue

**Hey all! **

**This is my second time publishing. The last story I wrote was a couple years ago. I'm not entirely proud of it, it's definitely not my best writing. But since I would like to improve my writing, I thought I would start another story and hopefully get lots of constructive feedback! **

**I've fallen in love with Supernatural thanks to tumblr, and thought I would be an interesting challenge to try and write a creative OC who has some dimensions. I know a lot of people aren't a fan of Originals and inserts, so I'm trying to work on a lot of character development. Let me know what you think of my insert. I've set this close to the middle of season five. **

**Any feedback is greatly appreciated! Love it? Hate it? Can I improve on something? I wanna know! **

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I don't remember the way every song goes. I can't recall every person I've met. I get names mixed up all the time, and I'm terrible with birthdays. But I can remember the day my life had completely changed forever. I know how dramatic that sounds; I'd like to stay away from the dramatics, but it's the truth. The day I closed the door on the comfy lifestyle I used to have, was the day the door to a completely new one opened.

"Jennifer Emily Elizabeth White!" Came the sharp yell from the floor beneath me. A deep sigh escaped my mouth as I ran a hand through the thick tangle of my hair, wondering if I should even bother answering. I knew I must have done something wrong again, and I'm sure it was going to be another long night of screaming.

My mother stood in the office area of the house, hands on her hips as she watched me enter the room tentatively. "Yes?" I looked into her eyes as I pushed up the thick framed glasses on my face. She turned slightly to reveal the computer sitting on the desk. I looked closer to see the browsing history was open.

'_Great_.' I sighed. "You promised you wouldn't anymore." My mother snapped when I didn't say anything. I was silent as my eyes scrolled down the page of history and then to the open tabs. She was in my email account. "Well?" She prompted. "I just wanted to know." I said quietly. "You don't need to."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not important."

I wanted to scream and shout and stamp my feet and tell her how completely stupid and unfair her reasoning was, but instead I just clenched my jaw and said nothing. "This needs to stop." She exhaled loudly through her nose. "But it's not fair. Most people have a dad, or at least know about them, why can't I?" It almost sounded like a whiney child begging their parent for junk food the grocery store.

"He left us! He left because of you!" The outburst was like a slap to the face. I could feel the sting of the words, and the break of my heart, and at the same time, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by anger. "So what are you saying? This is my fault, is that it?" The words fell out of my mouth before I had time to process what was happening. Mom stared back at me, clearly surprised at the sudden demand. "No." She said, running a hand over her face, in an attempt to remain calm.

We were both silent for a few moments before she spoke up again, "I don't want you talking with Sam and Dean anymore." My heart started to pound rapidly in my chest at the thought of not speaking to the two men I considered brothers. "But they're family," I started. Mom held her hand up to stop me. "I read the emails, Jen; I know you want to learn more about hunting."

I clenched my jaw and held my tongue once more, and the room descended into silence. "I don't want you hunting. You have a good future ahead of you."

"Fine." I snapped, turning on my heel and heading back upstairs to my room.

I sat on the edge of my bed, cradling my head in my hands. Saying I was frustrated was the understatement of the century. I've spent my entire life not knowing who my father was. Mom refused to talk about him. She changed the subject when I brought it up, and got angry with me when I tried to find information on him. The only thing I had from him was the silver sword pendant around my neck. There was something about it that I just couldn't put my finger on. I wanted to know more.

I couldn't talk to mom about it; she refused to bring up her days as a hunter, she wouldn't even acknowledge that she ever used to be one, so I sought out help from Sam and Dean. So far they had come up with nothing, but they were the only people willing to help me find answers.

I looked over at the pile of college acceptance letters on my desk, and then longingly at the cameras that sat on their designated shelf. A loud exhale escaped through my nose. I had worked this hard to achieve my goals and aspirations, what would be one more year? Just one year, I thought. One year to try and find the answers.


	2. An Eye For An Eye

**Hopefully if you're reading this that means you're interested? **

**I like feedback :)**

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One year later

The one year I had promised myself to take was at an end, and I never found what I was looking for. Sam, Bobby, and Dean had taught me much about hunting, although I never really got to do much, it had still been a nice break, but I was still disappointed about not being able to find anything on my father. No leads, not even a hint, nothing.

I sat on my bed in Bobby's house quietly. The college acceptance letters spread out on the mattress around me. I stared down at them blankly, poised with a difficult decision. It had been months since I learned of my mother's death. Dean said it was demons that did it. I couldn't help the hollow feeling of regret that plagued me. It somehow felt like it was my fault. I had left her alone after we fought, left on a bad note, and never told her where I went, and how I was sorry.

The bridge was burned and now there was no hope of repairing it.

Overwhelmed by the loss, I locked myself away in my room, rarely came out to eat, and spoke even less than I did to begin with. Eventually the grief had manifested into anger. I wanted to kill the thing that had taken away the only blood relative I had, my mom.

There was a soft knock on the door frame. I looked up to see Dean leaning on the wall. "Hey kid, making any progress?" Dean gestured to the many papers surrounding me. "Um," I sighed, and began to gather them up. "I think so." Dean pushed himself away from the wall and came to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going to college." I said as I placed the papers on the stack of books beside my bed. "Oh," He started. "How come?"

I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, and looked into his eyes. "Because, I'm going to hunt with you and Sam." I offered a small smile. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean waved his hands wildly in front of himself. "That was never the deal." He said. "You were going to take the year off, one year, to find out anything you could about your dad, and then you were going to go to college." My gaze lowered to my hands that rested in my lap.

"Originally," I said. "But I never planned on a demon killing my mom." I heard Dean sigh, and then the mattress shifted and I felt him move closer. "I know what it's like to lose people you care about," Dean started. "But you have a chance at a real life here."

I looked away from my hands and then at the wall across from me. It was plastered with the pictures I had taken, all of them framed and glossy. There were so many of them that you could barely see the color of the paint underneath. Numerous people had told me that I had a good eye for photos, and the colleges had commented on how much they liked my portfolios. Dean was right; I did have a chance at a real life. But I didn't think I would be able to sleep until my mother's death had been avenged.

It felt like a last ditch effort to do right by her after leaving in such a rage.

"I have to kill the demon that killed her." I said looking up into Dean's face. "Why?" He sounded exasperated at my determination. "Because, she deserves justice." I said, my gaze hardening. I took a deep breath and exhaled. The palms of my hands began to feel hot. Dean sighed again, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "You're not talking about justice, Jen, you're talking about revenge."

"Sometimes they're the same."

"No, they're not," I couldn't help but notice how Dean had raised his voice slightly. "Justice is about fairness. Revenge is about you making yourself feel better."

"Hammurabi's code of law." I snapped, looking up. "What?" Dean asked, sounding confused. "You say justice is about fairness. An eye for an eye. I kill the demon that killed my mother, that's fair." I stared into Dean's hazel eyes. I could tell he was trying to keep his cool. "Why is this so important to you?" He asked.

I opened and closed my hands. My palms were sweaty and beginning to burn. It seemed I was perpetually destined to have people disagree with my life decisions, and it was becoming increasingly frustrating. "You wouldn't understand." I said quietly, hoping he would catch onto my disinterest in continuing this conversation. He must have, because he heaved himself off the bed, I heard him exhale loudly, and then he turned to face me again. "You think I don't know how this feels?" He snapped.

"No, you don't know how this feels!" Dean looked taken aback at the outburst. I didn't mean to say it so loudly, but I just felt so angry. "All we ever did was fight!" I continued. "We fought the night I left a year ago!" My eyes welled up with angry tears. "I left without even saying goodbye, and then she was killed. And now I'm not able to say how sorry I am, and how I understand why she got so angry with me, and that now I know she was just trying to protect me because she's my mom!"

I squeeze my fists shut, and then reopen them. When I do, my breath catches in my throat. A slight glow is emitting from my right palm. I look down at it, dumbfounded. After a few seconds the glow begins to brighten. "What the hell?" Dean took a step closer to me, reaching for my hand. I close my fists, they're burning and shaking now.

Quickly, I turn and run out of my room and down the hall to the bathroom. The door was locked and I was running my sweaty, burning hands under cold water before Dean had ever caught up. It feels like something is going to explode in my hands.

"Jenni, are you okay?" Dean banged a fist on the door, and the handled jiggled. My hands were tingling, as though little needles are being stuck into my palms. "Jen, open the door!" Dean yelled. I tried to block him out and focus on breathing, but it doesn't help. The needles feel like nails now. Nails that have been put into a furnace and heated until they're glowing. I turn off the tap and weakly lower myself to the floor. Dean is still yelling and trying to break into the bathroom.

Both hands are in terrible pain. I open them to see my right palm is shining brightly, the light beginning to concentrate. My left is dimly flickering, the burning sensation almost unbearable. I could faintly hear my name being called, and then silence.

Suddenly the door flew open to reveal Dean. Sam stood behind him. Dean rushed in and grabbed my wrists, my palms facing upwards, so that they could see the bright, shining light in my right hand.


	3. Sunsets and Photographs

**So feeling pretty good about this so far. I'm trying to make my chapters longer, so you don't feel like you've read about two sentences. I'm also trying to be fairly airy about Jenni's background, still trying to figure out how I should reveal it too... anyways, hope this is enjoyable, I'll hopefully have another chapeter up today!**

**I still like feedback! **

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"What the hell is that?" Sam asked, stepping into the bathroom to get a closer look at the bluish light emitting from my hands. Dean was still holding my wrists. He didn't say anything, just stared disbelieving into the lights. "Does it hurt?" He asked. His voice was loud and grating. I nodded squeezing my eyes shut. Dean hoisted me to my feet and sat me down on top of the toilet, and then began rifling through the cabinet above the sink.

"I'll go get some water." Sam offered and disappeared. I hunched over in my sitting position and try to slow my breathing. There's sweat coating my forehead. I sit up and look in the mirror. My face is red and my eyes watery. But through the pain, I smile. I couldn't help but think that this was connected to the answers I so badly wanted. Sam returns from the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand and sets it down on the counter top beside me. "Thanks."

"Here," Dean says, twisting the cap off a bottle of Aspirin, placing two capsules in my left hand. I pop them in my mouth and down them with the water. When I had swallowed both pills and finished the rest of the water, I looked down at my hands. The light in my right hand is beginning to concentrate itself into a beam like a flashlight, only brighter, and the burning is beginning to lessen. My left hand still flickers dimly.

"Better?" Dean asked, looking down at me. I nod my head yes. "What the hell happened?" Sam asked from the doorway of the bathroom. I wasn't sure how to explain it, or if I even could. How do you explain so someone how your hands turned into flashlights? I shrugged and looked to Dean for help, but he stayed silent. "I told Dean I wasn't going to go to college and stay and hunt with you guys," I looked down at my socks. "And then we got into a disagreement and my hands got really hot." I said.

"And, well …" I held up my still shining palms.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Why would you want to go hunting?" He asked. I looked back down at my socks and remained silent. After a few moments Dean huffed and answered him. "She wants to find the demon that killed her mom." The small space descended into silence once more.

I couldn't help but yawn, feeling overwhelmed with exhaustion after everything that has just happened. I heard Sam sigh. "Jenni, you look like you're about to die," I smiled slightly at that. "Take a nap. We can talk about this later." He said. I nod, and with the assistance of Dean, I shuffled back down the hall to my room and collapse on the bed. Dean leaves, shutting the door behind him and I was left alone. I held my hands up to my face. They were still the same. I huffed and then rolled onto my side, shoving them under my pillow.

Truth be told, I was terrified. What if the lights never go away? It would be impossible to fit in. Exhaustion took over and I found myself drifting into sleep.

When I woke up, the sun was beginning to set, casting golden rays along the floor and walls of my room. I removed my hands from underneath the pillows. They were dimmer than the last time I looked at them. A part of me just wanted to go back to sleep, just to see if the lights would be completely gone when I wake up again, but raised voices coming from downstairs distracted me from the lights in my hands. I couldn't hear was being said until I opened the door of my bedroom and stepped out into the hall.

My socked feet moved silently down the hall. I made sure to avoid all the squeaky floors boards, and then seated myself on the top step of the staircase. "What the hell happened to you?" I heard Bobby ask. "Reality happened. Nuclear's the only option we have left. Michael can ice the devil, save a boatload of people." Dean snapped back. I knew what they were arguing about at the mention of Michael's name. Dean was considering saying yes to him. I could tell he was frustrated.

"But not _all_ of them, we gotta think of something else." Bobby said. "Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say. But if Lucifer burns this mother down, and I coulda done something about it, guess what? That's on me." Dean yelled. I sighed, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose, and ran a hand though my hair. Not wanting to stay for the yelling match any longer, I made to stand, but when I did the step I was previously sitting on creaked with the shift of weight. I froze mid step as the room below went silent.

I clenched my jaw, standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs, holding my breath, and praying that no one would come to investigate, and then immediately after, praying that Cas wasn't downstairs and could hear me praying.

After a few moments, the arguing picked up again. I let out a shaky breath and quickly shuffled back down the hall to my room. Deciding that I wasn't going to get anything productive done just staying in my room waiting for everyone else to cool off, I slipped on a pair of shoes from my closet and grabbed one of the cameras sitting on the bookshelf beside my desk.

I walked across the room to the window, my hands gripping the edge and pulling the glass upwards. Cool air brushed my hair off my collar bones. I looked out across the lot, the setting sun reflecting off the many windshields of old cars. I opened the window completely and crawled out. The roof cool on my hands. I shuffled my way down to the edge so I could the ground. It wasn't that far, but I didn't want to risk rolling and endangering the safety of the glass lens on my camera.

I continued shuffling along the edge until I found a downspout. I wrapped my arms and legs around it, sliding down until I was on the ground. From there, I casually walked through the rows of old cars and junk heaps. Along the way I came across a rusted out car that was being taken over by weeds, twisting and climbing up the side of it. The setting cloaked the old vehicle in gold. Getting down on one knee in front of a busted out headlight, I carefully set up the focus and zoom to how I wanted and clicked the shudder button, then pulled the camera away from my face to admire the picture I had just taken.

I returned to the house about half an hour later, to find the tension inside was high. Dean was reaching in the fridge when I entered through the front door, camera in hand. "Where were you?" Dean asked, resurfacing from the fridge with a beer in his hand. "I was just outside." I replied, holding up the camera by the neck strap in front of his face.

"We didn't even see you come downstairs," Sam appeared in the entrance way of the kitchen, eyes narrowing at me. I was about tell him how I didn't want to interrupt their discussion and left the house via window when there was a gust of wind and the scattering of papers in Bobby's study room. "Help." Cas appeared with a boy who looked to be close to the same age as me on his shoulder. Bobby called Sam and Dean, who rushed into the room. They carefully laid the boy down on the cot that Bobby was using for a bed.

I peer over their shoulders as they all crowd around him. He was covered in dirt. "Who is that?" I asked, looking between Sam and Dean. "Our brother." Sam answered.


	4. I Felt So Peaceful

**I am so sorry for not posting when I said I would, I'm just having some trouble at school, and with my laptop, but I found some time tonight to work on and finish this chapter! **

**Thanks so much for all the favourites/follows, I really appreciate it! **

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"Wait a minute, you have a brother? Adam?" Bobby asked. I went to sit in one of the chairs in the room. "Cas, what the hell?" Dean turned to the angel. "Angels." He said. Sam crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Angels? Why?"

"I know one thing; we need to hide him now." I watched as he placed his hand on Adam's chest, branding his ribs with Enochian symbols to hide him from angels. He was lucky he wasn't awake for that, I thought, remembering the unpleasant feeling. Suddenly Adam's eyes opened and he gasped for air. "Where am I?" He asked. His voice sounded hoarse, so I got up off my chair and went to the kitchen.

"It's okay. Just relax, you're safe."

"Who the hell are you?" I tuned them out as I reached into the cupboard to retrieve a glass, only then remembering that I still had flashlights for hands. I leaned against the counter, holding my palms upwards so I could see the dim, bluish lights. Would that freak Adam out? I thought for a moment, but then realized he just had been brought back from the dead. I went back to the glass, filling it up with cold water and returned to the study.

"They warned me about you." Adam said, looking between Sam and Dean. "Who did?" Dean asked. I pushed past him and set the glass down beside Adam, who looked up appreciatively. "The angels. Now where the hell is Zachariah?" Nobody answered him. "So why don't you just tell us everything? Start from the beginning." Dean said. "Well, I was dead and in Heaven. 'Cept it—it uh, kinda looked like my prom and I was making out with this girl, her name was Kristin McGee…"

"Yeah, that sounds like heaven. Did you get to third base?" Dean asked, looking expectantly at Adam. I would have laughed if it weren't for the seriousness of the conversation. "Just uh, just keep going."

"Well, these…these angels, they popped out of nowhere, and they tell me that I—I'm chosen."

"For what?"

"To save the world." I looked up from the tiny sword in my fingers from where I sat in the chair in the corner of the room, my eyes flashing from person to person, gauging all their reactions. Dean scoffed, "How you gonna do that?" He asked. "Oh, me and some archangel are going to kill the devil." Adam said it so easily and nonchalantly that I was sure he had no idea what would happen to him if he said yes to Michael.

"What archangel?" Dean asked, leaning in closer to Adam. "Michael. I'm his uh, sword or vessel or something, I don't know."

"Well, that's insane." Dean snapped, waving his arms in an exasperated motion. He turned his back to Adam, now facing Cas, Sam, and I. "Not necessarily." Cas said with an ever present smile. "How do you mean?" I asked, dropping the small sword from my hands and letting it fall to hang around my neck once more. "Maybe they're moving on from you, Dean." He replied, looking up at Dean. "Well that doesn't make sense." He said. "He is John Winchester's bloodline, Sam's brother. It's not perfect, but it's possible." Cas said.

"Well, you gotta be kidding me."

"Why would they do this?" Sam asked, finally speaking up. "Maybe they're desperate. Maybe they wrongly assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them." No one could miss the slight resentment in Cas' voice. He was clearly upset with Dean for wanting to say yes to Michael. "Alright, you know what? Blow me, Cas." Everyone was quiet for a moment as Dean and Cas stared at each other down.

"Look, no way. After everything that's happened? All that crap about destiny? Suddenly the angels have a Plan B? Does that smell right to anybody?" Sam asked, looking from person to person for a response. When no one said anything, Adam made to stand and leave. "You know this has been a really moving family reunion, but uh, I got a thing, so…"

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, no, no, no. Sit down. Just listen, okay? Please." Sam moved into his path to stop him. "It's unbelievable." He muttered under his breath. "Now, Adam…the angels are lying to you. They're full of crap." Sam tried to reason, but Adam stood his ground, arguing that they're angels and they wouldn't lie.

I sat and watched the arguing unfold for few moments, my fingers twirling the silver chain around themselves and them got up out of the chair and disappeared upstairs without being noticed.

Once alone in my room, I had the sudden urge to cry. I found myself feeling frustrated and overwhelmed. I was conflicted. I wanted to find answers about my dad and new found 'superpowers', but I also wanted to help Sam and Dean. Although I'm sure they wouldn't want me to, I was determined. I would find a way to convince them to let go with them.

I sat down on the foot of my bed with a sigh, and looked across the room at the wall of framed photographs that all hung parallel to where I sat. I could remember when I had taken each one. The picture of the Chrysler building when I went one summer with my friends. A black and white picture of the Hollywood sign in LA when my best friend and I went during our summer after graduation. The picture of the young brown horse I used to own, galloping across the field.

A tear silently gliding down my cheek, remembering my equine friend. I lifted up my sleeve to reveal the black, five digit registry number I had tattooed on my arm. It was her number. She used to be a race horse, sent to slaughter when she was three. I remember the first time I saw her, I had never seen anything so perfect. Her knobby knees, and ribs and hips jutting out of her frail and emaciated body. I remember thinking I had to have her or I'd die. Every time she looked back at me with her large brown eyes I felt so peaceful.

Mum laughed, that day, as well pulled away from the feedlot, with two new horses in our trailer, about how I had picked out the roughest looking horse that was there. But I didn't care what she looked like, there was something about the tall, ex racehorse that called to me. And I never knew what it was about her, because after she regained her weight she became the biggest pain in my ass.

We brought the worst out in each other, but we also brought out the best.

And I never would forget the morning I returned to barn to feed, only to find my lovely brown companion lying on her side in the paddock. I cried for help, and called the vets, but it was too late, she was already gone. The vets did a necropsy the next day, only to call and report that they were not able to determine the cause of her passing.

I mourned in the only way I knew how; silence. Locking myself in my room, refusing to leave. I didn't talk to my friends, I didn't go to school, and I barely ate.

More tears ran down my face, sliding off my cheeks, landing on jeans, and disappearing in the fabric. It seemed like everyone I was close too got hurt.

The sun had now completely set and it was dark outside, and the sound of my own stomach growling had pulled me back to the present. Realizing I was hungry, I got up from my bed and shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen, where I found Adam trying to make a break for it out the front door while Bobby has his back turned. "Going somewhere?" I ask, loud enough to get the attention of Sam, who appeared behind me. "Out for a … beer." He said, trying to give us a reassuring smile.

"Great. We got beer. Have seat." Sam motioned to the kitchen table, where he and Adam sat down across from each other. I tuned them out as I grabbed a pan from the cupboard and set it on the stove top.


End file.
